For her, time was flying by. Only three more days until Lammas, then Nicholas would announce his choice, and she’d be going back to Glencleith and what would surely be a lonely life there. Always, she would feel a loss.
“Greetings, my lady. What brings you here, I wonder—and all by yourself, too.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HER MUSCLESinstinctively tensing, every sense heightened and ready to fight or flee, Riona halted and looked around. It wasn’t Percival she’d heard, but Lord Chesleigh, who came sauntering toward her from the direction of the tavern. He’d probably been drinking or wenching or both.
“Why not come to the village alone, eh?” he said with a smile that did nothing to relieve her wariness. “Sir Nicholas maintains law and order very well. Indeed, he’s a most impressive fellow in a whole host of ways.”
“Yes, he is,” she agreed. She started to turn away from the Norman. “Now if you’ll pardon me—”
“Are you going back to the castle? So am I,” Lord Chesleigh said, falling into step beside her.
Short of breaking into a run, there was no way she could prevent him from walking with her, although why he would want to, she couldn’t guess.
Until he told her.
“I was hoping to have some private conversation with you, my dear. To warn you.”
She stopped and stared at him incredulously, making no secret of her surprise and suspicion. “Warn me? About what?”
“Your uncle’s in grave danger.”
“Who would want to hurt my uncle?” she demanded. Her eyes narrowed. “And why wouldyouseek to warn me?”
“If you love your uncle, you should listen to me.” They were beside an alley that led to a small storage building behind the baker’s. “What I have to say requires privacy. This way.”
He ordered her as if she were his servant—and did he really think she’d go anywhere with him? “You can talk to me right here.”
His face hardened. “Don’t be a fool. What I have to say is important, and not for anyone who happens to be walking by to hear. If you want to help your uncle, you’ll do as I say.”
She could defend herself. She’d done so before with Percival—as she would remind Lord Chesleigh. “Very well, but I can protect myself, if you have any intention of—”
“You’re hardly the sort of woman to attract such attention from me,” he replied with a sneer.
That was probably true. No doubt he would consider a Scot utterly unworthy of him.
“Good,” she snapped as she marched down the alley and around the storehouse. She noted a woodpile with several large branches near the corner—potential weapons, should she require one.
“Now then,” she said sternly when Lord Chesleigh joined her, “who’s threatening my uncle? And how do you know about it?”
“I know because the person you both should fear is me.”
Her hands balled into fists and her blood rose, hot and fierce.
“Come, come, there’s no need for temper,” he said, “although I suppose Nicholas may like that sort of thing—a contrast to his coldness.”
“What does he have to do with this?”
“He has everything to do with this.” Lord Chesleigh tucked his thumbs into his wide belt and for the first time, she noticed the small dagger tucked in it. “Unfortunately for us both, my dear, it hasn’t escaped my notice that our host seems to have a most unaccountable affection for you.”
“That’s not true,” she retorted, willing him to believe her, wondering if someone had seen her sneaking into Nicholas’s chamber at night and realized who she was.
Lord Chesleigh shook his head. “Others may not have perceived it, but I certainly have. I am a very perceptive man.”
“Or a very imaginative one,” she replied. “Do you have any evidence to support this outrageous accusation, my lord?”
He continued to smile that terrible smile. “There’s no need to act indignant, my lady. I don’t care if you’re bedding him or not. Indeed, you may bed him all you like, or as often as he’ll have you, and it’s nothing to me.” He ran his gaze over her. “When you’re angry, I begin to see your appeal myself.”
